Interview with a Devil
by Artgimmith
Summary: What if Sparda had a story to tell that he hadn't told anyone before? What if he revealed some details in his life that he only kept for himself? It will all be soon discovered by a small journalist named Eliot Hunter who happened to stumble upon him in a park. (Rated M for language, gore&violence and eventual sexual content)
1. Alexander Redgrave

_Quick Summary:_

_What if Sparda had a story to tell that he hadn't told anyone before? What if he revealed some details in his life that he only kept for himself? It will all be soon discovered by a small journalist named Eliot Hunter who happened to stumble upon him in a park. As curios as she is, she will do anything to get that interview from this mysterious stranger and perhaps reveal his dark secret._

_A prequel to Devil may cry. Set before Sparda x Eva, also slight AU._

_I do not own Devil may cry, nor do I own it's canon characters. All rights reserved for Capcom ©_

_I only own my OC_

_I hope you enjoy this little story :3_

* * *

1941, Avarice City

A young woman in a beige buttoned coat wandered through the dangerous streets of Avarice city at night. A cold and rather harsh wind whipped against her small frame, causing her to shiver and hug herself even tighter to maintain her body-heat.

But her coat alone did little to provide protection against the icy cold wind that roamed through this city. Her dark ash strands flowed almost gracefully through the wind, some strands even got in her vision which she in response brushed them aside with slight annoyance.

Her name was Eliot Hunter. She was a rather petite, lithe woman but was well-endowed with an above average height. Her peridot eyes always glistened with curiosity, always on a constant search for the answer she was desperately looking for. Eliot was a small journalist who chased fairy-tales of the supernatural phenomenon. Many people had called her a lunatic, others took pity on her for being such a naïve child and some even tried to _help_ her to get her head out of the clouds. But Eliot believed otherwise. She knew for a fact that she was mentally healthy and wondered why people could not see the inevitable, why they did not believe that there might be something true about these myths of the legendary dark Knight. Why else would people tell such stories? Why else would there be a memorial in the middle of the park of this particular devil that turned against his kind for the sake of the human-race?

To her, those people were blind and oblivious to so many things; for her, they were the ones who needed pity, not her. It was rather sad really, that so many people around this world are cut off from the spiritual beings that once surrounded them. Not that Eliot was a psychic or anything; no, she just had a very distinctive gut-feeling. And her gut-feeling was never wrong.

And today, she had a pretty good gut-feeling. Today, she would find the perfect proof that there is truth to these stories of the dark prince that called himself Sparda, the one who parted the world of mortals from the realm of shadows and demonic entities.

She stopped in her tracks to take a moment and took a deep breath. Yep. She knew it. Today was the day. She closed her eyes and let her intuition take the wheel as other people passed her, tossing her curios glances on the way.

All of them who passed her were of no interest. None of them had a special air about them. After a good five minutes or so, she flicked her green hues open, releasing a heavy disappointed sigh at the realization that she hadn't found anything at all that could lead her on to something….or someone.

She continued on her way and wandered through all streets from the dirty allies to the districts of the nobles to the suburban areas. Cars were honking at each other and many neon signs illuminated the streets with their shrill, buzzing glow.

"Still nothing of interest." She uttered under her breath with a frown forming on her pale features.

She turned on her heel and was about to give up on her fruitless search for tonight. Why would she even think that someone might cross her randomly on the streets and happened to know some explicit details about Sparda? That would be too far fetched.

Perhaps…she was a fool and did not see it because she was too stubborn and instead of using her head, she listened to her gut way too often.

But then again.., why, why was this feeling so prominent then? It was like spark of excitement wrecking through her body and she did not know what it was she was so excited about.

Perhaps there was something to it and – no, no. She had to stop immediately and quit making a fool out of herself. Eliot was about to give up and leave this subject be. Then, a certain unknown invisible force tugged the end of her beige coat. The tug was strong enough to catch her full attention. As startled as she was, she whipped her head back to the direction of this strange force…. but nobody was there. _Okay, this was really eerie._

Either her lack of sleep was getting to her or she failed to take her medication for her Leukemia.

For a while Eliot stood there like a solid statue, unmoving as she tried to make out the source of the sudden touch. As it eventually turned out to be nothing, Eliot brushed it aside and cursed her vivid imagination when she headed back to her apartment until it came again.

This time, this force was a lot stronger and she could even make out a shape of hands pulling her shoulder in order to turn her around. The woman's gaze hardened with suspicion. "Okay, I know you've had your share of fun but this shit isn't funny. Either you stop or I'll notify the police." She said…before realizing that she was all on her own, talking to herself.

Then suddenly, two hands pushed her from behind and Eliot tried to smack those hands off of her but instead she only managed to hit thin air. Her lashing out at this invisible being did not stop this force from pushing her into the direction of the park.

Eliot squirmed a little but refrained herself from screaming since there was actually no reason to scream when there was nobody there. The energy pursued to push her all the way until she reached the entrance of the park and as this presence came, it vanished, like a ghostly apparition.

Eliot relaxed almost spontaneously but she couldn't help but cast one last glance to this….whatever it was behind her.

"Okay, I should really stop reading so much mythological bullshit." She admitted before she attended back to the park in front of her. Strangely enough, the cold wind had turned into a gentle caress and even the clouds cleared themselves from the beautiful night-sky, revealing a glorious sea of stars, glistening with brilliance through the dark night.

The moon did the rest of the job by illuminating the place with enough radiance to see clearly. It was a rare thing, especially in this city.

Eliot checked her surroundings one last time to make sure that there was indeed no one there, if there would be than this person was in a desperate need of a hobby.

As she turned around, she shrugged and decided that it couldn't hurt to visit the park and see the memorial just for old time's sake. As she marched along the path, the dark marvel statue came in sight, standing out as if it were screaming for attention. This statue itself looked quite intimidating. It appeared like a wild horseman with a horned helmet, dark armor and a sword in his right hand as he screamed for battle.

Its appearance scared many children and even adults but to Eliot, it was a fascinating sight.

As Eliot drew closer towards the marble carved statue, she saw someone standing there. That immediately perked her interest as she leaned in and narrowed her green hues to make out this particular frame that stood there unmoving, almost as if this person was a statue himself.

It was a man, that much was for certain but what stood out mostly was his height. Even from afar he appeared towering. Eliot sucked in a breath and contemplated if whether she should or not continue to head his way. She wanted to see the statue from a close angle but this man was standing there as he examined the memorial with unwavering attention. She figured that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

She didn't have problems approaching others…..but it was late and this peculiar man was giving off a vibe that was a bit unsettling. _No_, she couldn't turn back now or else those strange invisible hands will get all touchy and push her back to this place no doubt, besides, she felt drawn to this area. It was a place of peace and she enjoyed it every now and then. She won't let anyone take her peaceful moments from her. Not even from this odd fellow over there.

With a deep exhale, she gathered her courage and approached the statue further with slow and silent steps. But the closer she got, the more this man radiated energy. It was tingling and overwhelming at the same time. What was wrong with her? Why was this man intimidating her so much? All he did was standing there and examine this memorial. There was no harm in that. But then why was he radiating such a presence that could daunt anyone who came near him?

Those questions made her curiosity and hunger for knowledge swell. She had to find out. She had to know who this person was and why he was so radiant.

When she only stood a few feet away from him now, she could now make out his features. He was a tall man as mentioned. He wore a fine dark grey trench coat with an eggplant colored shirt and a black cravat, a fashionable scarf covered with a beautiful elegant pattern that hung loosely around his neck, a pair of black business men trousers and a pair of black leather gloves that protected his hands from the cold.

His posture was straight and proud but his hair did not fit the rest of him. It was the most intriguing asset of him since it was the most brilliant shade of platinum she had ever seen, they were short and tousled, a bit messy but over and all absolutely gorgeous. It glistened in the moon-light, reflecting the lunar rays as he moved his head.

Was he and old man? No one had such white silvery hair at that age. He looked more like he was in his mid twenties, about twenty five or so judging by his well-built physique that lingered beneath all this clothing.

"Do you know it's rude to stare?" the silverette suddenly piped up as he did not remove his gaze from the intriguing monument. Eliot jumped with a gasp, her eyes slightly widening from his sudden reaction to her presence. He was right; Eliot had been staring at him without saying a single word which was a pretty awkward scene. The young journalist had never found herself gaping at someone for this long.

_Now this is really awkward._

A nervous smile curled on her rose-tinted lips "Um.. my apologies. I didn't mean to stare, I was just….uh.." the brunette trailed of when she realized that she was rambling.

"-Fascinated by this memorial?" he finished with his deep and sultry tone. Eliot didn't know what to say after that but she could detect a hint of amusement laced in his rather pleasant voice.

"Or…was it me that you're fascinated with?" a small smirk swept over his lips.

Eliot arched a keen brow at him. Was this man serious?

The smile on his face sparked a certain temper that she did her best to conceal most of the time but he managed to agitate her with only a few words. Eliot bristled visibly, wanting to tell this man to mind his own business when he turned around to reveal his face.

Eliot was caught off guard by his stunning appearance. She thought he looked good from behind but this…..was almost _unearthly_. Her eyebrows soared almost to her hairline when her eyes met his for the first time.

He had the most vibrant eyes she had ever seen, almost appearing cobalt blue but they were piercing and icy at the same time. His eyebrows were the same shade of his hair even though they were partially covered by his bangs. His features confirmed that he wasn't an old man, no he was very young and sharp like the way he dressed.

His regal lines and contours matched his attire almost perfectly along with his straight patrician nose and sculpted lips. Despite his abnormally good looks, he still came off as masculine and natural.

The stranger's brow rose when he caught her staring at him again. "You are staring again." he reminded her as he continued to smile at her impishly.

Eliot snapped back to reality, scoffing as her pale face hardened with a stern expression "So what if I am? Have you ever considered that I might have been staring at the statue instead of you?" Eliot retorted.

At this his forehead creased with sardonic amusement "Oh really? Don't take me for a fool. I can distinctively tell if someone is staring at this statue or is looking directly at me." he fired back at her, completely calm and confident.

_The nerve of this man!_

The woman could feel the irritation bubbling inside her but perhaps it was better to settle this in a calm way like a proper adult. She heaved a sigh and ran a hand through her messy ash-brown locks. "Okay…., I may have been staring.. just a bit, but only out of sheer curiosity. It is a rare occasion seeing someone standing there in the middle of the night leering at a lifeless statue." Her voice dropped lower as she gave him an expectant glance, hoping that he wouldn't give her another smartass answer.

The cryptic male did not answer; instead he walked towards her with long strides and stopped right before the edge of her personal bubble. His aura was daunting her and she already felt uncomfortably close to him. In response, she took a step backwards to create some distance between them.

"Some people just like to enjoy their time by looking at things….. in **peace and quiet**." He emphasized the last syllables with a mocking, condescending look creeping on his face.

What? This guy is obviously delusional. Everybody has the right to visit the park and enjoy some 'alone-time'. This man was very bold and rude but before Eliot could reply to his discourteous comment he spoke again.

"What is a small girl like you doing alone out here anyway?" he suddenly asked, changing the subject.

His expression also softened somewhat as he now gazed down at her.

"I've been on a search..,"

"..for?"

"For someone to interview…., I'm a journalist." Eliot mumbled as she looked down to the side, not even bothering to cast her gaze up at him for she couldn't take the smug expression on his face anymore.

"A journalist? At this hour? You must be a hard-working young woman." He noted with slight impression. Her peridot hues met his again but she noticed that his smug expression melted into a soft and gentle smile "Yes.. I'm working on a story that is based on mythology….well, more an urban legend that many locals know. It's about a dark knight named Sparda….. I've been trying to finish my story but I just can't find any other explicit details, that's why I can't finish my work." She sighed a little, embarrassment clear written all over her face. She felt so stupid for chasing fairy-tales….but then again she didn't want to give up on it just yet.

The silverette just looked at her with a blank expression before it shifted into an unreadable one "The legend of Sparda, eh?" he tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

Without another word, he closed the space between them with two more steps, now towering over her with his gigantic height. Eliot felt so small and almost bullied just by his presence "I might be able to help you with your story after all." He said as he gave her a cryptic smile together with a glint burning in his blue optics.

The woman's face colored itself with bewilderment, excitement, relief and a hint of inquisitiveness. "..R-really? I mean, yes that would be really helpful! Thank you so very much. I've been dying to find someone that knows some things about him that weren't written in the story-books that you can find in your local library." She chimed with gratitude.

"What's your name anyway?" at this question, he simply stared at her.

The way he looked at her made her blush a little but she managed to maintain her cool "I'm Eliot Hunter by the way." She introduced herself first.

"My name is Alistair, Alistair Redgrave. A pleasure." He smiled down at her with a formal bow, taking her small hand in his and planted a soft lingering kiss on her knuckles.


	2. Its not much, but its home

_Okay, here's the second chapter of Interview with a Devil :)  
The next (3__rd__) chapter will have the interview, I promise. I hope you enjoy the second chapter_

_All rights reserved for Capcom ©_

_I do not own the Canon Characters, nor do I own Devil may cry._

_I only own Eliot_

A faint flush bloomed on her pale cheeks when the tall male dispensed a small, chaste kiss onto her knuckles. She knew that this kind of greeting was completely innocent but she couldn't help but feel slightly awkward at this. She wasn't used to such chivalry.., gentlemen like him were rare nowadays and those kinds of etiquettes were very hard to find in this society.

However, it was good to see that some of them still manage to maintain their manners…, even if he had been rude beyond belief to her earlier. He somewhat confused her. At first he was smug and to certain extent pretty rude and in the next moment, he was acting like Sir Gallahad.

Eliot felt a slight urge to curtsy in front of this man but she shook those foolish thoughts aside. _This isn't 15__th__ century you dumb cow! What are you thinking?_

After he let go of her hand, he rose back up to his full height as the moon-light illuminated one side of his frame while the other remained dark and shadowed, making him appear almost predatory.

_This Alexander was made for the night._

A strange silence grew between them and Alexander became like a solid statue once again. Why was he staring at her like that? There was not even a twitch in his eye…, this intensity was absolutely off-putting. It was like he was scrutinizing her from head to toe.. and Eliot realized that he was indeed scanning her. But why? Was he looking for something in particular or did he just have a strange fetish with staring at people for almost thirty minutes without even twitching? Was making girls nervous one of his hobbies?

….

Eliot decided that enough was enough and mustered her courage.

"Uhm.., Mr. Redgrave?" Eliot began, her eyes trying to contact his pale moonstone orbs while he was still 'checking' her out. Or so she thought.

After a good minute or so, an enigmatic smile colored his almost flawless features. His eyes darted back to Eliot's face as he gave her his undivided attention. His smile still maintained plastered on his lips as he arched on of his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue to what she had to say.

And again, Eliot realized that she had been staring.

"..would you like to come with me back to my office? We can begin with our interview there if that's alright with you. It's pretty cold outside and I doubt you would like to sit here in the cold and freeze with clattering teeth while I chew your ear off with the many questions I have." She jested a little, attempting to loosen up the intense atmosphere around them.

Alexander's POV.:

"..would you like to come with me back to my office? We can begin with our interview there if that's alright with you. It's pretty cold outside and I doubt you would like to sit here in the cold and freeze with clattering teeth while I chew your ear off with the many questions I have." The small woman jested a little.

_Cute._

Alexander's smile only widened before he gave her a reassuring nod "Yes, I think that would be best too, Miss Eliot. But I'm afraid that is not me who is currently freezing." He said as he referred to her trembling form.

The woman's brows furrowed and then took a moment to look at herself and how she shivered ever so slightly. She flicked back up to him as her milky skin flared with a shade of a light rosy color.

_Such an adorable little journalist I have here. If she already reacts that extremely to me, I wonder how she will respond to the things I have in store for her. _Alexander mused to himself before he let out a deep chuckle and offered her his arm like a gentleman that was rather uncommon nowadays. "Come on; lead me to your home so we can continue our little chatter, Miss Eliot." His eyes twinkled a little with boyish charm but also a hint of mischief and another emotion that seemed indescribable for a mere person to comprehend.

But what seemed enigmatic for the average citizen, it was so intriguing to the small journalist.

Those reactions he got from her were more than satisfying, no; Alexander had to admit that he became quite intrigued by her as well as odd as it sounded.

_Humans can be such fascinating little creatures at times._

Though he wondered if she was aware who she was inviting to her home….., his reputation was not exactly the most welcoming.

Eliot's POV.:

As he offered her his arm, Eliot was a bit hesitant to take it at first for he was still a complete stranger to her. There was something deep beneath those eyes of his that told her to turn back and run. He seemed nice (well nice as can be when you consider those slick remarks he left earlier) and not like your regular guy who only wanted the one thing if you cross paths with him at night.

As she still was a little hesitant, Alexander began to give her a 'well, are we going?' expression. His expression was the stepping stone of pushing Eliot to take his arm after all and lock their arms together so he surely would not wander off before they reached her apartment.

"Lead the way." He said in a certain tone that could make anyone melt, women as well as men.

Eliot gave him the smallest of nods and as requested lead the way to her home.

The warmth and certainty he was giving off was more than nice but also a bit distracting. She could feel his strong sinewy arms beneath the thick coat of his and how it flexed with every movement.

Eliot swallowed and pretended to be completely unfazed by his actions and by the close proximity.

Thankfully, she did not live too far away from the central park of Avarice city because surely she would have taken a cab since the temperature was ridiculously low. It had been the coldest night in years but the moon never glistened brighter through this rotten town.

_Grazebrook Street 42_

_-Klick-_

With a turn of the handle, the door opened, letting the moon-light spill into small yet cozy apartment of Miss Hunter.

As she stepped inside first, she tossed the jingling house-keys onto the counter of her kitchen that was located next to the entrance. The air was a bit stuffy from the lack of aeration but it still smelled of sweet butter-cream cupcakes thanks to her new bought candles that she loved and adored.

"It's not much, but it's better than outside at least." Eliot piped up after she stepped aside to let the tall male in. She was almost sure that he wouldn't have fit through her tiny doorframe for even she had her share of struggles. She remembered the times when she first moved here and the first days that were absolutely disastrous. How many times had she bumped her head on this damned wooden frame? Eleven - Fifteen times?

Well.., no matter how many times it was, it hurt like hell.

"Watch it." The slender woman advised him with precaution but Alexander seemed to have noticed it on his own accord. Well…of course, he was sharp-minded after all. His perception was much keener that it seemed at first.

He remained silent as he entered her room and took his time drinking in his entire surroundings. The apartment was small and poorly decorated….he figured that this woman didn't have a lot of money to buy such trivial things that humans normally would have in their home, letting the dust gather on it and leave it unattended for years just out of pure idleness.

He closed the door behind them since the freezing air was blowing a chilly gust of wind into her apartment and it was not exactly their intention to freeze inside as much as outside.

He inhaled the sweet scent and let it roam through his system, enjoying the sugary fragrances that lingered in the air. He let go of the doorknob when the door clicked shut sealed tight.

_No turning back now._

Eliot discarded herself of her beige coat and hung it onto one of her coat-hangers before she attended back to the mysterious Alexander before her. He immediately understood what she wanted him to do and shed himself of his coat which was made out of rather heavy fabric as he handed it over to her.

Eliot was a bit surprised at how heavy it was but she figured that it was light as a feather to him. She hung it next to her jacket and turned back to him again.

Now she got the chance to get even a closer look at his physique and the structure of his body. He was very well-built and she could detect a few toned muscles here and there….despite it being well covered by the fabrics of his clothing. Now, Alexander only wore his eggplant colored shirt and black vest above it. His scarf was taken off along with his coat since he had no need for it now.

He then took his two leather gloves off and placed them neatly on one of her kitchen-counters. "It's small…..a bit too small for my tastes but it has its certain charm." He stated with a light hearted huff, sounding almost indifferent about this place.

"Though…it could use some redecorating.." he mumbled the last words under his breath but Elito heard them loud and clear.

Her left eyebrow twitched with slight irritation. What the heck….? At first he was rude; than he acted like Prince Valiant and in the next minute he turned back into an uncivil teenager.

No matter how much she wanted to tell him to watch his tone, she stayed resolute and kept herself from badmouthing him. It would only fuel the awkward tension between them and Eliot had no intention to scare this man away. He had some valuable information that she needed very badly.

She only hoped that he wasn't just some fraud that only seeked to waste her time and hoax her. That would be the last confession she wanted to hear from this man.

"Uh….thank you. Uhmm…..well, let's not dawdle. Follow me." the woman gestured him to follow as she went on ahead through the small corridor of her warm and comfortable apartment. Right ahead, she opened a door that lead to her private office where she mostly typed up her personal work. The silverette shadowed her steps and did not even bother to keep his distance. The brunette noticed this and quickened her pace with him only closing the gap between them once again.

Man…this guy was not good for her nerves at all.

Normally she wouldn't be so intimidated by a man…but he radiated a certain energy that could scare off even the meanest thug if provoked.

Eliot actually dared to steal a glance at him and what she saw was most unsettling. The corners of his lips were tugging slightly upwards and she guessed he noticed her being a bit timid towards him.

_Damn! Double damn! How could you be so unprofessional, Eliot? Great job, now he won't take you seriously anymore…._

She scowled at herself mentally as she took a seat on the soft, leathery chair behind her mahogany desk. Alexander however kept to himself with the slight smirk still lingering on his features and took a seat across the table, immediately swinging one long leg over the other as he got comfortable in his equally soft chair.

The lamp on her desk illuminated a good part of the room even though the radiance was quite dim.

"No need to be shy, I won't bite, Miss Eliot." He teased a little with a wiggle of his silver eyebrows.

"You can just call me Eliot." She bit out right after his rather teasing utterance, completely flustered but also a bit miffed at the fact that he kept on humoring her. Who the hell did he think he was? He confused and irritated to no end already before they even have begun the interview.

Alexander's grin only went wider, wide enough to show some of his white teeth "Then you can just call me Alexander or Alex for short, my little journalist."

She blinked at him once and her face reddened even more from the embarrassment. No one had ever managed to abash her like this in such a short time span. Without further due, she bent down to one of drawers of her wooden desk and opened it to pull out a tape-recorder, a stack of papers and a pen before she closed it again.

"Okay, _Alex_," she begun, emphasizing his name as she shot him a stern look. "Would you like some coffee before we begin or are you good? I don't want my interviewee to be parched or tired when we start our little conversation." She continued, this time with a more genuine and calm physiognomy.

"Nope. I'm good, I'm better than good. Some people may call me even nocturnal." He jested a little, managing to draw a small chuckle from the uneasy journalist though she understood the ambiguity behind his soft words. _So….he liked to play it that way, huh?_

The woman ran a slender, delicate hand through her ash-brown hair, smoothing out her messed up strands as she thought about this whole situation…..if she did the right thing or not….if this man may know something that not even she would expect.

There was something about him that told her that he actually knew some information about the great knight that nobody was familiar with.

Either way, she had a gut-feeling that it was going to be one interesting night, one way or the other…..


	3. The Beginning

_Third Chapter of Interview with a Devil~_

_Thank you for the wonderful reviews, I hope I can entertain you well enough with this little story _

_All rights reserved for Capcom ©_

_I do not own the Canon Characters, nor do I own Devil may cry._

* * *

The heavy rain recoiled against the window, creating a soothing and calming sound that could lull anyone into sleep. It has been raining for good five minutes now and Eliot was just glad that they reached her home before the storm had begun. What luck she had today. Although, she was still uncertain about this Alexander character, he seemed too shifty for her tastes but he appeared very serious when he said that he knew about Sparda.

First things first.

She had to know if this man wasn't just some charlatan. Anyone could make up some stories about the good ol' Sparda. Really, anyone.

She sorted out her belongings for the interview, the tape-recorder, the pencil and her notebook and then attended to Alexander who looked at her with silent anticipation.

"Alexander, I need to know something first before we begin." Eliot said; her voice dry and flat as she went on.

Alexander's forehead creased but he waited for her to ask her question.

"If you are just making those stories up and waste my time, if you'd happen to be somebody who wants to wind me up just for the hell of it, I will tell you to get out now and take your leave. I take my work very seriously here Alexander and I ought not to fail my schedule. This work needs to be done within two weeks or else I'm in big trouble. My boss is already an impatient man and it is a miracle that he actually lets me write about this urban legend."

Alexander huffed shortly before he switched his legs and crossed them differently. One arm rested on the armrest as the other tapped his chin thougthfully.

"Well what are we waiting for then?" a shrewd smile.

Eliot blinked at him with bewilderment, surprised that he was actually so eager to participate. It was really not that kind of response she pictured but….it was surprisingly refreshing.

He seemed excited and eager to share the tales he had in store for her. Even….if some parts might not be true or completely far-fetched….but then again, something told her that there was something true to all this.

"I hope you are not lying to me while I interview you."

"You have my word, as true as I am standing here." He said with sincerity as he placed a hand on his chest, making it clear for her that she had nothing to fear…..yet…

_God, I hope I know what I'm doing. If this turns out to be a complete pratfall then I'm done for…. Goodnight Eliot._

"Okay.. good. Then I think we are settled. Okay, Alexander, my first question would be: Where did you get the information about the legendary Sparda? Did you learn it from a book, did you hear it from an old folklore or did you study this subject by research?" Eliot clicked on her tape-recorder and began recording their little conversation. Her eyes twinkled with burning inquisitiveness and hunger for knowledge but she managed to restrain herself and keep calm.

Alexander's POV:

"Well, I've been occupying myself with the dark knight for quite some time now. My mentor taught me a lot about his history. He was a scholar but sadly he deceased many years ago, leaving me as the only one now who bears some true knowledge about him." he answered her first question to the interview. It was the most generic question he could have hoped for but it was a good start.

Patiently, he sat there as he inhaled the old dusty scent of her apartment. He knew it was old and a bit worn off….this girl had not much money to pay for renovations but somehow it added all to its nostalgic charm.

Or what the humans call it.

He had a thing for old things….and possessions. The technology and everything in human society was evolving so fast that he had lost track so he stopped trying. When it came to fashion, he never really cared about the latest craze. He only dressed himself in what suited him mostly.

_Stop your digressions…._

The male sat up and straightened his broad back against the chair-back, the wood creaking slightly from his weight. Truth be told, Alexander was a lot heavier than he looked.

But thankfully, the small harried journalist did not seem to notice.

He watched her write all her notes down on her small notebook with forbearance. When she finished, she looked back up to him, anxiety adorning her face just like a prying little kid that wants to know the end of her bed-time story.

"And how did he retrieve his knowledge of Sparda?" Eliot said.

"Well, he had the journal of him. Some say he wrote the book after he had interviewed the Devil himself. Quite a story that could spook anyone," he paused, seeing that Eliot wanted to question about the journal, but he continued "But sadly, the journal has been destroyed many years ago, making me the only sufficient information source. All of his memoirs, thoughts and stories are now stored in here." He tapped a gentle finger onto his temple, signalizing that everything she wanted to know was locked safely in his sharp mind.

"My mentor was a very eloquent man…very honest and truthful, had a lot of honor. He was a good man. I have to admit that he rubbed off on me quite a lot." He chuckled.

"Interesting.. very interesting." Eliot commented in a low voice as she once again scribbled all the important parts down. She placed the pencil on her desk before she leaned back in her chair, loosening a bit up from the tense atmosphere earlier. Perhaps she was getting accustomed to him….which was good….or bad. Depends on how you view it. But in Alexander's case, it was rather both.

"I'm really sorry about your mentor. I really am. It's a shame that such a good man had passed…and leaving you the only one who knows about such things." Eliot's voice held genuine sincerity and compassion. Alexander couldn't help but feel a bit fascinated by this. It has been a long time since someone had shown him such sympathy despite her being almost a complete stranger. Such kinds of traits were a rare thing in a human, he could tell after all. He had enough experience in these kinds of things. She really began to intrigue him more and more.

"Thank you Eliot. It's very kind of you."

Eliot gave him a nod and then returned to her notebook until Alexander stopped her "Why write everything down? Don't you have a tape-recorder? I mean, it would surely take a very long time to gather all the information on paper while I narrate as I go."

Eliot's POV:

"Why write everything down? Don't you have a tape-recorder? I mean, it would surely take a very long time to gather all the information on paper while I narrate as I go."

Eliot's hand dropped slowly to her lap. He was right. She had her tape-recorder going…but she was so nervous since you could never be too sure. However, Alexander had a point. It would take too long. He surely had a lot of things to tell and she was eager to hear it.

"You're right. My apologies, but you can never be too sure," a nervous giggle "But back to our interview. If the journal holds all the information, than surely you know the beginning of the story, right? Can you tell me about the origin of Sparda?"

For a moment, there was complete and utter silence. Only the rain roared from the outside. The outside streetlights that shun into her office were bright enough to cast shadows on them and the raindrops, covering Alexander partially in darkness. Alexander seemed to be thinking….hard. She figured that he was flipping through some pages of his inner memories to get the information she asked for.

It took him quite some time but Eliot was patient. She had patience now that she knew that he might have something useful for her. And perhaps even more.

_Let us begin._

"Hmm….it all started long ago at the beginning of time….when darkness ruled over the mortal realm…"

_-Begin of the story-_

Once, there was only darkness, ruling over all three realms combined. But it was not only darkness; it was also chaos and destruction, one of the most primal forces that have ever existed, and the most powerful one. But there had to be a counter-balance to it and so there came light, beating back the shadows and scarring them off into their deepest pits of hell. Demons and creatures of the damned alike grew weaker from the brilliant radiance of the light. And the darkness took not kindly to it. The very entity of darkness became angry for its power was slowly failing. The darkness knew that the day would come where the mortals would be in control, the day where he would loose his power completely so it had to create a vessel, no, a successor that would be stronger than itself.

The entity turned to a female demon. A beauty that once used to be a mortal… or maybe something else, no one knows for certain. They conceived an heir, an embodiment of his power and hers. As the darkness subsided, a high demon lord named Mundus took over the throne and reigned over the demon world for many millennia, nearly a million years.

Their offspring's name was Sparda.

He grew up without his parents, let alone knowing them. He only heard stories whispering and echoing through the deep shadows. Already as a child, he was strong but sadly not strong enough. He seemed to be never strong enough where other demons succeeded in which he failed.

When he was old enough to stand on his feet and speak for himself, he took more on a humane appearance rather than a demon's which he inherited from his mother. His hair was fair, his eyes a clear blue, some say he was an Angel but he was far from it. Only his aura oozed with demonic fire. A lot of them avoided him for his predecessor disappeared from existence. It was a sign of weakness. A thing he could and must not have. It was dishonorable; even pitiful to be weak as a demon. It put shame on to the unfortunate and they always would end up the most suffering. Sparda however always somehow prevailed. He had to. He had no other choice. The demon realm would not accept any sorts of deficiency.

Even if he was weaker than others, he had great endurance and showed others his useful potential.

Sparda always did the lesser work of higher beings of his realm.

And it irked him, a lot.

And back then, he didn't even have a name.

But he had some luck. He had a mentor, an old and wise demon. He was unlike the others. Not the typical one that usually was out for blood and destruction. No, he was a quite type, mostly kept to himself and only helped his brethren when needed.

He saw the ill-fated boy and took pity on him which was very uncommon.

His mentor called himself Agares. A name he had chosen for himself and for him only. He saw himself as one of the most intelligent of his kind, despite his rather weak appearance. In his true form, he looked like an old human man with a long white beard and long white hair to match. His fingernails were long and sharp like deadly talons. The only thing that truly marked him as a demon was his eyes. They glistened in a fiery golden shade and the pupils were slanted, a common thing for a devil. He always wore robes in different colors, sometimes light and white colors and on some occasions dark. His appearance conveyed his wisdom for the most part….so did his age. He was even a bit older than Mundus himself.

Agares spent most of his time in the library of hell. Well, library was the only word that could suit this place. Actually this place was like a memory-storage of every demon that had existed. Agares was a servant of Mundus himself. He worked for him as a certain memory-recorder, or as a secretary. He took care of the paper-work and the organizing, ranking and everything else that seemed very important but never recognized.

Everything that was or will be would be saved in his own little storage.

He loved doing his job; it was the only thing he was good at. He would have been killed long by now if not for his excellent organizing skills and intelligence which some devils were lacking greatly.

He knew every demon, from the lowest tortured soul, to the highest lords of hell.

But there was one demon he did not know. He didn't even have a name. He only knew his origin as did everybody else. He was an outsider, an outcast just like Agares himself.

He took interest in the boy and offered him apprenticeship.

Agares's POV:

He sat quietly in his library as always, a candle light standing on one of his dusty old desks that were adorned with demonic images and ornaments, making it all appear even more sinister. No lights were lit except the little candle of his that flared in an eerie blue color. His silver white hair reflected the light of the flickering flame as he sat there unmoving like a statue, skimming through his latest work about Mundus. Lately, he had the honor to update his _biography_ and record the latest victories over the realms he had conquered. Even though the brilliance of the light had weakened the demons, Mundus kept strong managed to hold his power over this and the mortal realm as well. He was a great demon king, even greater than the embodiment of darkness.

His long slender taloned fingers brushed over the soft smooth surface of the pages that were full with encrypted Hellion, the language of hell. Soft murmurs escaped his lips as he read every single word with undivided attention, scanning for any sort of mistake he could have made while writing his work. The candle-light made him appear even older and uncanny than he already was.

The elder demon sighed as he placed the heavy book onto the desk, dust flying all over the place from the heavy impact. He was tired….so very tired. He had been working on this for weeks now and still he wasn't done with all the new occurrences. But he had no choice. If he'd quit now or show any signs of negligence, he would surely get scowled and punished.

He had enough of these in his miserable life….he could surely do without them.

"He is so full of himself. Atrocious and puerile at the same time….and so easy to anger. Why did a child have to warm the throne?" he huffed heavily "But I guess; I could count myself lucky to do all the work he doesn't feel like doing."

A sudden stack of books that fell over drove him out of his deep thoughts. The elder man snapped to the direction to where the racket had come eyes were keen and sharp, a suspicious scowl darkening his aged and lined features as he tried to find the sudden intruder.

"You are very unwise to disturb an old man in his peaceful studies. Old demons like me often turn out to be the most powerful ones and their wrath is not merciful." Of course it was a bluff. Agares was not a strong demon but he had certain experiences that helped him more than once in dire situations.

There was no response….

A moment of deafening silence grew prominent. It was almost too quiet, even for his tastes and he was a man that preferred his solitude.

The azure flame flickered unevenly for a small moment when he saw a brief shadow pass from the corner of his eyes. "I am **not** in the mood for these games. Come out now or I'll have the Hell Vanguards escort you out of these quarters." He warned but still no answer.

This actually sparked his icy temper and with a wild gesture of his hand, the blue flame grew into a large darting flame, illuminating the dark and bleak corridor in front of him.

Not much to his surprise, the light revealed a small, scrawny physique standing on the left side of the large bookshelves. It was a boy that got partially covered by Agare's long stretching shadow that shrouded his appearance partially.

_Only a boy._

He should have known that there was no threat to begin with. However, he was rather intrigued that this young demon had the form of a humanoid. Only the ones with enough willpower and spirit could change their shapes and appear beautiful.

"What are you doing here, lad? Don't you think it's a bit late for playtime? This is no place for a little fledgling such as you." The librarian took a moment to step closer and get a better look of this child.

He seemed to wear rags….nothing special, the uniform of a lesser demon or servant.

His skin was milky and almost flawless, glowing beautifully from the blue light. His hair was short, messy and shined in a brilliant silver white. His lustrous locks only confirmed his assumption that this demon was a young one. The look on his face however was grim. But he also appeared frightened since Agares had caught him in the act. "Trying to play some pranks on an old fool like me? You're not the first one to try so, let me tell you." Agares said with stern features.

The boy only stared at him wordlessly before he wanted to turn and run but Agares was quicker this time. His hand shot forward and grabbed the collar of the young intruder, lifting him to the air with little effort. The boy struggled and began to toss around in his hold.

"You are pretty scrawny…..," he notified before his eyes locked with the boy's again, his hard gaunt features hardening even more "….and you are driving my patience very much on edge. Now tell me, boy, why are you here, what were you doing?"


End file.
